Set in Angel S1 Ep18 - Five By Five
Tw: torture
When Faith revealed herself in Cordelia's apartment, I was bombarded with a rush of emotions I had locked away for years. Seeing Faith again felt like an old wound opening - and promptly, a literal one blossomed on my temple, by her hands, as she knocked me out cold.
I awake in a sleek apartment that clearly does not belong to the slayer. The lights are off but moonlight streaks through the tall windows, illuminating a sadistic smile on Faith's face.
"Rise and shine."
I regret how I left things with Faith. We'd become close, closer than her and Buffy, but once she killed that man, I shut her out. I was conflicted over how I could love someone who was a killer. I realised too late that it wasn't that simple - nothing ever is - but by that time, she was gone. It was too little, too late.
I'd escaped from Sunnydale with Cordy and Angel, in a poor attempt of a fresh start. My past always finds a way to catch up with me, though.
"Faith," I rasp as she eyes me from across the room, "It's been a while."
I can feel the pain radiating off of her and I dread to think how much of that is caused by me.
She doesn't reply, she only takes a confident step closer.
I don't struggle against the ropes binding me to the chair. Well, it's not like I can run away and maybe I don't want to. Part of me knows I deserve some karma and part of me wants to know how far she'll go.
She closes in, predatory and intimidating, straddling me before placing a hand around my throat. "Long time no see, indeed." She squeezes. "How long has it been? How many months since you realised I wasn't worth the hassle, chose B over me?" She squeezes harder.
I gasp.
She lets go.
She tuts to herself, "Man, I gotta pace myself. Can't have you dying on me just yet, buttercup."
I wince, and not because she's hurt me, but because that nickname brings back too many memories.
"Now, we've only done one of the five basic torture groups: blunt. That still leaves sharp, cold, hot and loud. Have a preference?" she smiles, waiting for me to answer.
"I've missed you."
A flash of the Faith I used to know crosses her features like a half-formed ghost.
"You can cut the bullshit," she swears and I know I've made the wrong choice, "Just for that, I think we can start with sharp."
She picks up a photo frame, and I hear the glass shatter.
I blink and she's in front of me. I clamp my mouth shut when she drags the make-shift blade across my cheek. I maintain eye contact as I feel it pierce from my cheek to my chin.
Her face hardens and she pulls away. For a split second, it looks like she can't bear to do this.
I feel her thumb push into the cut and I can't help but cry out - the sound tangled, desperate, undignified.
"Aw," she's unsympathetic, "Buttercup, does it hurt?"
A twist of a smile, a slash down my arm.
I grit my teeth.
"Does it hurt?" she repeats louder, forcing me to look at her by grabbing my chin.
I don't respond, instead I ask, "I'm surprised you chose me over Wesley. He's screwed you over too."
She lets out a dark chuckle, "True, true." She straddles me again and I hear the bloodied shard clatter to the floor. "I just don't think he'd be as fun."
"Too uptight." I nod.
"Too British."
We both pause. A glimpse of the friendship we once had - the banter, the jokes, the trust. Oh, who am I kidding? A friendship? I loved her.
We're frozen in time, stunned. Her hands on my shoulders, my back against the chair, the restraints around my ankles and wrists. Except, I can't feel any of that. I'm numb and dumb and I need her to hit me again, say something, do something.
"I'm sorry, Faith," I blurt out, and let the rest roll of my tongue frantically before she can stop me, "I did you so dirty and I miss you. I do. I should have been there for you and I fucked it up. I can't go back, change it, I know, but I-"
"Shut up." She gets off me, and picks up the glass again.
"I deserve this, Faith. It's my f-fault. I wasn't there when you needed me."
It's hard to say - to admit I was an asshole, but sometimes you just have to bite the bullet. I was in the wrong, and I'm telling her because she deserves to know, not because I'm searching for forgiveness.
"Shut up," she croaks, and raises the glass. She swings it downwards and I screw my eyes shut, letting two teardrops spill down my cheeks. I take in a wobbly breath when I feel no pain. She's cut the ropes that are keeping me in this chair. She dips low and does the same to the rope around my feet.
"Just go."
"Faith." I stand.
"Get out of here."
"Faith, I -"
"Please."
"Faith, I'm not leaving you!"
Her lips part, we stare at each other. I can't tell what she's thinking.
She shoves me and I stumble back into a wall, back hitting the plaster with a soft thud. She closes the gap between us in a single stride, her face now inches from my own, caging me in.
"What makes this time any different?" she sneers.
"What?" I whisper.
"Faith, I'm not leaving you!" she mimics me in a not-so-flattering voice, digging an accusatory finger into my chest, "You haven't said that before."
Her sarcasm stabs me, "Faith. I was seventeen, stupid. I'm not letting you go again."
Her chest is heaving, the apples of her cheeks flushed a light red. She swallows and her guard drops a little, as if she finally accepts that I'm not joking, that I'm not a threat.
"You need help." I whisper gently, but not patronizingly.
Her lip curls up, face stoic.
Slowly, tentatively, I cup her cheek with my hand and she leans into my touch. I've broken down the barrier she'd set up around herself, and it honestly didn't take much. She's not doing well at all, but this time, I want to help her get through it.
She doesn't look me in the eye as she mutters, "I'm sorry." but I don't care because she means it.
"I'm here for good." I say quietly.
Her eyes flit up and connect with mine. Her long, doll-like lashes blink sadly as she brings up a cautious hand to touch the gash on my cheek. She winces as she ghosts her finger over it. She wipes - what I presume is - blood off the corner of my mouth, those gorgeous eyes still boring into mine. I want to tell her that I don't blame her, that I'll heal quick and we can forget this. But my mind isn't really working properly.
Her breathes are steadier now; the rise and fall of her chest calmer but not relaxed. She bites her lower lip, like she has a question on the tip of her tongue, before I feel her press closer into my body.
Slowly, carefully, her lips find mine and it's like an electric shock runs through my entire being. We should have done this a year ago, when we crazy in love but too stubborn to admit it. Now, she tastes of someone I could have had in a different life. Or maybe, possibly, someone I can have soon, if this all works out.
My hands travel down from her face to her waist. Her hands wander all over me, halting at my jeans. I place my hands over hers and pull away, "Faith."
She leans her forehead against mine, tired, and I hear the pop of the first button being undone. "Make it go away." she whispers.
I swallow. "Not yet."
Just then, a violent crash makes me jump out of my skin and Faith throws me to the floor. She protects my body with hers and I yelp out as even more shards of glass try to pelt my body.
It's Angel. He's burst through the window like a completely insane person, adding to the damage Faith caused me. Couldn't he just use the door?
"Oh, it's you." Faith spits, rolling off me. I hear glass crunching as I gingerly get to my feet with her support. She picks three pieces from my hair and Angel looks confused. Well, his expression hardly changes but I think he's confused.
"Thanks for your help." I deadpan and then get headrush from standing up too quick. I shake my head, but it only makes it worse.
"Angel..." I say, frowning. I grab my upper arms, hugging myself and I completely forgot about the cut that runs down my right arm.
That makes sense. Bloodloss. Right...
"Faith?" I squeak and fall into her arms as darkness overwhelms me.
Hope you enjoyed this darker, different Faith oneshot! Remember to vote <3